Momma, Why?
by Talise Lovela
Summary: Syl never asked for anything- and never got anything in return. Horror as in child neglect. T for said neglect.
1. Her Poem: Momma, why?

**A poem. From the perspective of a neglected child. OK, this is for a fanfic that I will be posting soon- for Twilight. Basically, prologue. (The stanzas are every four lines.)**

Momma, why?

Momma, what'd I do?

That made you turn away

Did I upset you in some way?

Or was I not supposed to smile?

Momma, it's dark in here

I can't see anything

I can't heard anyone coming,

Or find your face in this dark

Momma, where are you?

Why did you have to go?

I've been good, you see

As good as you wanted me

Momma, where are they taking me?

You're yelling, so it must be bad

But then why are you turning away again

Won't you at least watch me go?

Momma, this place is strange

There are people everywhere I don't know

And they keep trying to talk to me

But you told me to not make a sound

Momma, who are these people?

Why do they look so strange?

What is that look on their faces

That seems too good to be true?

Momma, I'm so scared

They keep poking and prodding me

But you told me to not make a sound

And I'm being good, see?

Momma, they say you were bad

To treat me the way you did

But, Momma, if you hadn't

I'd be in a worse place

Momma, why didn't you tell me?

That Daddy was gone forever

And that you were sick in the head

Is that why you never hugged me?

Momma, I can speak now

And the light is finally showing

Why didn't you ever tell me

That the world was worth knowing?

All you ever said

Was that the world was a horrible place

So I should be quiet and not make a sound

Unless I wanted you to be mad

Momma, I understand now

Why you did what you did

You did it because you didn't love me, Momma

I kinda always knew you didn't

Momma, it's time to go now

I know you won't shed a tear

My happiness was never a concern of yours

But rest assured, I'll be happier there.

* * *

**The girl this poem is 'by' is fictional, rest assured- her name is Syl, and the end of the poem is when she finds a new home. **


	2. New House, New Problems

I took a really deep breath, wincing when it caught in my chest slightly, and walked up to the green and blue house. It looked exactly like it's picture in the bio they sent me- except that the picture had had more vibrant colors. The actual house was very washed-out; like the sea. i really liked it- for really obvious reasons. At least, to me, it was obvious.

I was up to the door then- I rang the silver doorbell that was on the side of the door alcove. I could hear it reverberate inside- the house was pretty big.

I waited for a few minutes, and then the door opened to show a woman and a man. The woman was well-dressed, but simply- a green v-neck top and forest green pants. She had an aura of peace and motherly love around her- it made me wonder why Momma didn't.

The man was very different. He had a suit on- beige and black- with slacks. He was obviously going somewhere- who would wear something like that in their own home, when they didn't have to? He had a business feel to him- just like my mother, except crisper.

"Hello?" the woman said. I immediately liked her- and I don't like most everyone. At least, I liked her until I noticed her plastered smile.

"Hi." I whispered, "I'm Sila."

The woman smiled while the man frowned, but both gave me the once-over. Both saw something that they obviously liked, but from the creepy look in the man's eyes, I suspected that the something was very, very different.

"Hi, honey- my name's Abigale, and this is my husband, Davyd. I hope you'll call us Mom and Dad soon." I was not going to like them- that much was obvious. She was a perpetually happy person, or so was my impression, and he was a pervert or something- he still was giving me that look. Creep.

I smiled at her, and she waved me inside. They both followed me as I went into the house I would call 'home' for the next few years- or weeks. Maybe this would be the house I stayed in until I was eighteen. But I doubted it- Abigale would get on my nerves, and I'd probably do the same to her. And Davyd...

I wouldn't think about that. No more lawsuits and angry accusations for me. No more jail friends.

I walked into a bright, airy kitchen, covered in yellows and blues. It was way too much for one room- especially one with only one window. I tried not to wince as Abigale beamed around and Davyd shamelessly showed his distaste.

"This is the kitchen," she said unnecessarily.

Then she went to a hallway that was out of the way, and said, "Your bedroom is this way- I have several colors that you can pick from."

So I followed her in a medium sized room. I blinked at the whiteness of this room- so different, and yet similar, to the kitchen. It had a blankness that I hated- it reminded me of my first home, in a way.

"So, I have the paint swatches over here," she said, and babbled on about how we were going to get along famously, or some other crap like that. I didn't truly hear her, because the amount of paint swatches in front of me was staggering. Ranging from the whitest white to the darkest black, I felt like I was in artist heaven. Of course, I would rather be in writer's heaven, but at least I was in a heaven of sorts.

"I'll serve lunch in a few minutes, Sila- you should probably put your stuff down in here, at least until we start painting."

I started slightly and nodded, glad that Davyd had lost interest and was gone. He seriously freaked me out when he looked at me that way. But, that's kinda the story of my life. Things freak me out- I get used to them.

I dropped my backpack down on the floor- it didn't have anything breakable in it, except for a few pens that were easily replaced, so I wasn't careful with it.

Then I took out one of my numerous writing pads and glanced at it. Aire's story- perfect. She knew what it was like to feel different in a world where 'different' gets you shunned. I could put some of my new experiences down in a way that won't get me in trouble with anyone.

"Sila?" I heard Abigale say. "Are you coming?"

"Be right there," I called, sighing a little. I knelt down and placed Aire's story back into my bag carefully- the stories were treasure troves of my experiences. They might help me survive the world without a loving mother and father to guide me- at least in monetary issues.

I walked out of the room- _my_ room- and into the ostentatious kitchen/dining room, where Abigale and Davyd were already seated. I smiled slightly awkwardly, and sat down next to Abigale. Immediately, Davyd's face became stern, and he glared at me, making me shiver with the fire I could sense behind his eyes. I didn't like fire in the slightest. Not since the fire.

"So, how do you like the room?" she asked excitedly. I shrugged.

"It's really white." Her face fell slightly. "But it'll be OK when it's painted." I hastened to add, not wanting to upset her already.

Her face brightened. "Good," she said decisively, "Then we'll paint it as soon as possible. You can pick out some colors after lunch, and then we'll go and get them before the store closes. We'll paint tomorrow." She smiled- she was obviously someone that loved planning. I hated planning- too much work, and everything usually went awry if I planned. It couldn't go wrong if I didn't know how it was going to go.

I nodded, and quickly finished my lunch- a turkey sandwich with mayo, lettuce, and tomato. I actually enjoyed it, despite being a vegetarian.

Then I raced off to quickly pick a few colors- some sea blues and greens- and write some of Aire's story.

* * *

**Well, here's the first real chapter of 'Momma, why?'**

**It's longer than I planned, but then again, I don't plan.**

**Aire is an OC of mine- she isn't posted anywhere, but I am working on finishing her story.**


	3. The Arts

"Sila?" I sighed and looked up from Aire's story, which I had been immersed in for- I glanced at the clock- almost five hours?? Wait, that meant it was five o'clock.

Shit! Walls! Paint!

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Abigale, I completely lost track of time," I apologized, springing up from the chair that had been placed in the corner.

She smiled. "I can see why. You write?" she asked, jerking her head towards my writing pad.

I resisted the urge to say 'duh', and merely nodded instead. She smiled.

"I used to write- I prefer designing now, though," she said, then walked out, saying, "If you want to get paint today, you should hurry up- and hide that writing pad, Davyd doesn't like reading or writing much." I scowled- I _knew_ there was a reason I didn't like him! Other than the 'eyes of fire' bit- I really, really hated fire.

I hid Aire's story- I was working on another, better name for it- under the chair I was sitting in. It was a nice, green almost loveseat chair- smaller, but still big enough to fit two people- barely. I shuddered as I wondered who might have thought up getting me this; it seemed like something up Davyd's alley- a dark, cold, menacing alley to me.

Of course, I often imagined such things- at least, that's what I deluded myself into thinking. Sometimes, the deluding worked. Other times- bitter memories.

I walked out of my room after checking that my writing pad was hidden successfully. Abigale was sitting at the bright blue kitchen table, reading a newspaper. When I coughed to announce my presence, she looked up, smiled, and put down the newspaper.

"Hey! You ready to go buy some paint?" she asked, smiling up at me. I nodded, and we set out to get paint.

* * *

The paint store was very small- so small, I wondered if any of the paint colors that Abigale had shown me were here- it looked like there were barely two or three swatches worth of colors here.

"Hey, George," greeted Abigale, "I'm here to pick up some paints." The man behind the counter smiled at her, then grinned at me.

"This your adoptee? She looks like a seascape kind of gal." I blinked in shock. How had he known that?

Abigale laughed at the expression on my face. "George here is amazing with auras and how they tell what people like. The first time I walked in here, he told me that I needed some bright yellows and blues." So that's where the kitchen came from. Maybe she just used too much.

She turned back to George and said, "So, have anything that she'd like?"

He smiled, nodded, and disappeared into the back of the shop, appearing a few moments later with an armful of paints.

"Here," he said, spreading them out on the counter, "Take your pick."

I chose a dark, almost midnight blue, a nice blue-green, a dark sunset- violet, and a few sunset colors. I like dark colors- they make me feel safe and warm. I was going to use the sunset colors to paint something around the window, make it less gloomy and lighter.

Abigale paid for the paints, and we left the tiny paint store. I had a feeling that someone was watching us as we walked back to her car, but when I looked around, there was no one there. It gave me the creeps. In fact, the entire town gave me the creeps. There was a weird perfume pervading the air, one that was unpleasantly familiar. It put me on edge, wishing to be home- the first one I had, I mean. At least there, things made sense. At least there, I was safe from the outside world.

Abigale drove us back to her house. I wouldn't think of it as my house- at least not for a few weeks. It made leaving again easier. As it was almost inevitable that I was going to be leaving pretty soon, even if Abigale thought otherwise. I was never really home. At least, not anymore. Not since...

But I won't think about that.

"Sila? You coming in?" I jumped and sighed.

"Yeah, one sec." She nodded and walked in.

I tried to gather myself- it wouldn't do any good for me if Davyd decided that I was weak because I was crying. So I hid my true self, wiped away the few tears that had leaked, and made my way into the newest house that I was staying at.

Temporarily.

* * *

**Gosh, I feel so bad! I haven't updated in a while! I meant to get this up a LOT sooner, but school started.**

**Sorry, that was a pathetic excuse- for a pathetic excuse of a human being!**

**I'm depressed again- I think it's school. Which has been in for me for... six weeks, I think.**

**Yeah.**


	4. A Roomful of Whispers

**And the third storyish chapter. I think I need a new keyboard. This one sticks in places, and in others is too easy to press.**

**Sorry about the bit of a wait! I had projects due, then quarterly exams...**

**Needless to say, I've been busy.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"We're home!" she cried, setting down everything in little bins and cups and hanging up her coat- it was slightly chilly, despite it being the end of August- so precisely that I longed for something just thrown somewhere, no particular place for it. I liked uniformity in some of my stories, but I found it very boring in real life.

"Already?" I heard the distinct voice of Davyd drift in from a room that I hadn't visited yet. "I thought, you being you, it would have taken a lot longer."

Abigale smiled and said, "Well, our new addition to the house here was very decisive about what she wanted in her room- the colors were a bit dark for me, but she got a good selection from George's place."

Davyd came into the foyer with a cell phone in his hand- what was he doing before?- and smiled at me before examining the paint cans we had brought.

"Hmm... dark blue.... blue-green... violet... orange.... red.... yellow..." he muttered, looking at each of the paint cans in turn.

He looked up at me. "Are you planning on painting each portion of the wall a different color?" he asked with a slight contortion in his voice- like he was trying to accuse me of wasting their money for something I was going to botch completely.

Well, I wasn't going to botch it- I knew how to paint.

"No sir- I'm going to paint three walls the dark blue, the accent wall the blue-green, the ceiling violet-"

"What are you going to do with the warm colors?" he intterupted, obviously thinking that the'd used a word I didn't understand, and that I would have to answer and make myself look silly, or ask hm what the word meant, which would mean sacrificing my pride.

But I knew the word, so this didn't matter.

"I'm going to paint a scene around the window so that the room won't be so dark and gloomy," I replied, feeling smug when his mouth hung open for a second before he closed it.

"That... T-that sounds good," he stuttered out, much to the amsement of me- and Abigale, apparently, because she let out a loud 'hem' of laughter at her husband's sake, but quickly shut up when he glared at her menacingly. Interesting.

"I think I'll just go and sleep on that sofa thing in my room now," I said quickly. I really didn't want to witness anything ugly the first day I was here- it was always awful to witness ugliness at all, but on the first day, when you barely know them- it feels weird.

Abigale nodded at me and turned to Davyd. As I went to my new room and lay down, I could hear them arguing.

Sometimes, my life can be hard.

* * *

The next day, I woke up refreshed and ready to paint- until I looked at the clock and saw that it was 7 in the morning

I frowned, got up, and stretched. I never truly liked to get up before noon usually- what was so different about being here? Maybe it was being so close to the sea..

'You up, Syl?' I heard Abigale whisper, and turned around to see that she was in the doorway.

'Yeah,' I whispered back, 'But why are we whispering?'

'Davyd likes to sleep until 10 or so most days,' she whispered, 'And we don't want to wake him.'

Something me and Davyd had in common? Ugh- no wonder my body woke up earlier than usual.

'Here, let's move everything out of here so we can get to work,' she whispered, pulling on one of the sides of the loveseat-like couch thing.

It rasped lightly across the floor, sending a squeak into the air- barely noticeable, but there. Apparently, Davyd had some freaky superhuman hearing, because Abigale looked terrified.

'Here,' I whispered, and grabbed the other side of the red thing.

Together, we dragged all of the furnishings of the room out and put some newspaper down.

Some very old, very yellowed newspaper.

I glanced at one of the dates as I put it down, and then had to look back at it August 27, 1998? That was 13 years ago!

'I saved all the newspapers I used to read before I married Davyd so I could protect the floors when I painted,' she whispered.

I nodded. It made sense.

So we started to paint- and it got everywhere. On the newspapers, on the walls, on the _wrong_ walls, on the ceiling, and on us.

I decided that, since all the paints were everywhere, I would just make the walls and ceiling _mostly_ the colors they were supposed to be.

At about noon, we heard a definite bang coming from the kitchen area, signifying that Davyd was awake.

So we stopped talking in savored whispers, and started talking normally.

Abigale started thelling me about La Push and Forks- apparently, there was a reservation near here; about 10 minutes walk from this house.

"And they have some pretty nice-looking guys there, too," she said, looking at me slyly.

I started giggling. Me? With a Native American hunk? It's perposterous! I mean, just look at me- skinny, dark red hair, skin that wasn't white, black, or Native American, and washed-out blue-grey eyes. That, with a Native American? _So_ not happening.

As soon as I stopped giggling, we went back to painting, finishing around three.

"There," I said, putting the final touches on the ceiling. My room looked slighty depressing, but good all the same. The next thing to xee was if I could paint a good picture around the one source of natural lighting in my room- the window.

I gulped as I took out the brush that Abigale had bought for me to paint this, and the colors I was going to use. I was worried that I wouldn't know what to paint, but as soon as I looked at the spot of dry, dark blue paint, I knew exactly what was to be there, and I knew how to paint it.

It took me some time, but I leaned back to appraize my work, happy that I was finally finished with this part. It looked really good, like it belonged there- a painting of the sun, and bottles of red- amber, and vines.

I laughed as I realized that it looked like something out of a book about the Greek Gods- mostly Dionsyus. But it fit- and that was what mattered. It fit.

Unlike me, still.

"It's beautiful, Syl!" exclaimed Abigale when she walked in. "It fits so seamlessly! Would you like something to eat now?"

I was suddenly ravenous- had I really just gone the day without eating? I nodded, and followed her to eat some pasta- no meat in the sauce, I was relieved to see.

And then I came back to my freshly painted room, took out Aire's story, and began to write again.

Perhaps her story's new name could be _Elements of Aire_.

* * *

**I am so sorry about the hideously long wait!!**

**I will post another chapter as soon as its done.**

**Review!**


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